


Asking

by whetherwoman



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff without Plot, M/M, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman
Summary: That was why Patrick found himself asking, without quite meaning to, "Is there anything you want?"





	Asking

It was just another night, really. They’d had sex, and Patrick was too awake to go to sleep and too sleepy to get out of bed, so he was kissing David. They were in bed, and naked, and David’s lips were very soft. That’s what did it, Patrick decided later, when he tried to remember why he’d asked. It was because David’s lips were so soft. And the way they always curved up, just on one side, when David looked at Patrick like this: in his bed, under his hands, well-kissed and well-loved. 

That was why Patrick found himself asking, without quite meaning to, "Is there anything you want?"

"An espresso machine," David said without hesitation, and pulled Patrick down into another kiss.

"You’ve seen the chart graph, David," Patrick reminded him, and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You know we’ve got at least another three months, unless we reduce our budget for business lunches by at least twenty percent, and even then it’s still a full seven weeks." He kissed the other corner of David’s mouth. "Also that’s not what I meant."

"Hm," David said into his mouth. "So, not a business thing?" Patrick moved to the side of David’s jaw, brushing kisses up to his ear. David tilted his head into it. "Not a—mmm—not what a business partner might want from another business partner?"

"Hole in one, David," Patrick said, and licked at David’s neck. 

"You know I don’t play rugby," David murmured, entirely predictable, and Patrick bit down in retaliation. 

"I mean in bed, David," Patrick said, and was half-surprised to find that he meant it. "I don’t want you to think I want to change anything about, um, our sex lives." He couldn’t help his slight stutter. Even after over a year of having David Rose in his life and his bed, he was still getting used to actually talking about it. Which, now that he thought about it like that, maybe he was actually a bit overdue to have this conversation. He propped his head up on his hand so that he could see David better. "I just want—I want you to have everything you want. That’s all. Is there anything you’re missing, anything you’d like to try?"

And David… hesitated. 

Patrick felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Okay, yes, he’d asked, but he hadn’t honestly expected that David had been holding something back. David wasn’t subtle; he didn’t ask for things, exactly, but he hinted very, very strongly. Patrick didn’t mind. He’d pretty much liked all the things David had come up with—he’d always been willing to try just about anything bed, at least once, even before David. And with David, wow, things he’d shrugged off before were good, and the things he’d actually liked were mind-blowing. Patrick had always liked being restrained, held down, but god, he’d gone wild with David’s big hands encircling his wrists, David’s weight pinning him so securely he could hardly thrust up against David. Patrick shivered a little, remembering. And things like dirty talk or roleplay, which had always felt awkward at best and entirely boner-killing at worst, were delicious with David—the first time David had called him a cockslut, his mouth pressed to Patrick’s ear and his cock working its way steadily into Patrick, Patrick had come almost immediately. Luckily oversensitivity was another unexplored kink to which Patrick would now give a very sincere thumbs up. And when David had hinted he’d like dirty talk the other way around, too, Patrick discovered a previously unknown well of filth that was apparently just waiting to fall out of him into David’s very receptive ears.

So yeah, the hinting had gone pretty well so far, Patrick thought. Plus it let Patrick pretend he didn’t know what David was getting at, which annoyed David endlessly. So that was fun.

But the idea that there was something David was deliberately holding back, something he’d thought about enough that it came to mind as soon as Patrick asked, yet David still hesitated to say it out loud… That was a surprise.

"I didn’t mean—you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want," Patrick offered, hesitantly. 

"No, no, it’s nothing," David said immediately. "It’s not—it’s just silly, it’s not a big deal. You’ll just think it’s silly." His mouth quirked self-deprecatingly, but he met Patrick’s eyes easily and he reached up to touch Patrick’s cheek, his touch soft and confident, sure of Patrick’s welcome.

Patrick turned his head to kiss those fingers, he couldn’t help it, and was rewarded by David’s smile growing wider. Okay, _not a big deal_ probably meant it _was_ a big deal, at least to David, but that David didn’t think Patrick would be too shocked by it. So not, like, flogging, or—or a collar, or something. Although actually, a collar sounded kind of—Patrick shook off the thought. There’d be time for that later, after a little more self-reflection and maybe a judicious amount of online shopping. Right now was about what David wanted.

"Have I ever thought something you asked for was silly?" he said instead, kissing David’s fingers again.

"All the time," David said promptly. "An hour ago you told me it would be silly to get a chocolate fountain for our kitchen, and at the store you said the way I wanted you posed for that Insta story was silly, and—"

"Okay, but in bed, David," Patrick said, and bit the tips of David’s fingers. He couldn’t make himself stop smiling. He didn’t think he’d smiled as much in his life as he had in the past year with David.

"Mm," David said, his eyes dancing. He pulled his fingers out of Patrick’s mouth, tapped one against Patrick’s pouting lower lip. "You said it was silly when I asked you to wear that lingerie, and—"

"And I was very wrong, I know," Patrick said, flushing. That had been—something. "Maybe I will think it’s silly, but—" He pulls back a little, enough to see David’s whole face. "That doesn’t mean I’ll think _you’re_ silly. You know that, right?"

David smiled at him again, smaller this time, but sincere. Patrick thought maybe David hadn’t smiled very often either, before. "I try to remember," he murmured, and Patrick had to bend and kiss him.

"Okay, but," Patrick said when he surfaced a few minutes later. "There is something, right? Because now I want to know." He kissed David again. "I really want to know. Please, pretty please—" another kiss, "—with my cherry on top?"

David snorted, but heaved a sigh and Patrick knew he’d given in. Patrick hadn’t meant to pressure David, or at least not much, but—he really did want to know. And more than that, he’s realizing that whatever it is, he wanted to give it to David. He wanted to be the one to give David everything, anything, the world and everything in it. He wanted David to keep smiling. He leaned down and kissed David again.

"It’s not even about sex, really," David murmured against his lips. "It’s just a—can I not look at you, maybe? While I say it?"

With a little pushing and pulling, David arranged them to his satisfaction. Patrick loved how they fit together like this—David’s head tucked into the hollow of Patrick’s shoulder, his long legs curled around Patrick, one of Patrick’s arms wrapped around his back. When Patrick lifted his head just a bit, he could kiss David’s wild mop of bedhead.

"Comfy?" Patrick whispered into David’s hair, and tightened his arm a bit in response to the satisfied hum he got back.

"Okay," David said into Patrick’s shoulder. "Um. You don’t have to do this or anything, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about, it’s not a—okay, I’ll just spit it out. I want you—to—" He took a deep breath. 

Patrick tried to just keep his own breathing steady, his body relaxed and receptive to David. 

"I want you to pet me and tell me I’m pretty," David said in a rush.

"Uh," Patrick said. He wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. "What?"

"I want you to pet me," David said, more enunciated, "and tell me that I’m pretty."

"_That’s_ what you were so worried about?" Patrick said, his voice going high and incredulous. 

But David turned his head further into Patrick, and his shoulders were tight, and he didn’t say anything, and Patrick felt like an asshole.

David had been specific, though. So Patrick tentatively brought up the hand David wasn’t lying on to stroke David’s hair.

"You’re pretty," he said softly, and felt more than heard David’s huff of breath against his chest. "You’re really pretty, David." He let his hand wander a little, winding his fingers through David’s thick, soft hair. "You’re so… you’re gorgeous, honey. You’re so pretty."

David sighed, hard, and nuzzled into Patrick, which Patrick took as a sign he was doing something right. "You’re so pretty," he said again. "I love your hair. And your jaw." He let his fingers follow his words, delicately running down David’s jawline from his ear down to his neck. David shivered a little against him. "The only thing better than looking at your stubble is feeling it. And your—I love your shoulders." He trailed his hand down over David’s shoulder, stroked up and down over his arm. "Your shoulders are so pretty. Your arms are pretty. Your skin is so soft. You’re so—" He wanted to say _strong_, but would that be okay? Was that the same as pretty? Fuck it, why not. "You’re so strong, your muscles are so pretty, I love watching them when you hold me."

David heaved in a breath and it’s shuddering, as if David was on the verge of tears. Patrick froze, worried he’d fucked it all up, but David said, "Keep going, I—Patrick." His voice was thick, but he turned his head enough to leave a kiss on Patrick’s bare chest, soft but lingering. "Patrick."

Patrick waited to hear if there was more, but apparently his name was all David really wanted to say. He kept going. 

He kept going until his throat was sore, until his fingertips tingled, until he’d touched and praised all of David that he could reach. It was—easy. Patrick had never done anything like it. He felt himself sink into it, attuned to every sound and movement David made, let himself talk and talk and talk. Let himself tell David how very, very pretty he was.

Finally David lifted his head, and Patrick fell silent. David’s eyelashes were clumped together, as if he’d been crying, but his eyes were clear and his mouth was twisted into the small, private smile that was Patrick’s favorite.

"Patrick," David said, as if he didn’t know how to say anything else, and kissed Patrick. 

When he pulled back, Patrick surprised himself by yawning. David smiled at him again, but lay down on his own pillow, one hand still on Patrick’s chest. Patrick put his own hand on top of it.

"Thank you," David said. He looked happy. He looked content. "Next time you should tell me what you want."

"Next time—" Patrick said, and cut himself off with another jaw-cracking yawn. "Next time, love, you can tell me _I’m_ pretty."


End file.
